


Good Boy

by salatuh



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Crying Tyrell, Dom Elliot, Dom/sub, Hurt/Comfort of sorts, M/M, Sub Tyrell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salatuh/pseuds/salatuh
Summary: AN: Soooo. This is my first stab at Tyrelliot. And my first fic in this fandom... *places Elliot's gun in Tyrell's hands and walks away* here you go. lol“I’m so sorry,” he began. “I was just doing what you told me to do! What you told me to do...”Mr. Robot sighed and lowered his gaze to Tyrell’s shaking hands.“God, I— I almost fucking killed you!”Tyrell began crying in earnest then, hands covering his broken face. Mr. Robot ground his teeth together, the pain in his and Elliot’s side starting to come back to the surface of their shared body. They shook their head in quick succession — Mind awake, body asleep. Mind awake, body asleep — and Mr. Robot came back to the forefront.“Yeah, but—” Mr. Robot held back a groan, which Tyrell’s sharp attentive hearing immediately picked up on with the sudden lifting of his head. “You didn’t, did you?”





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brasspetal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brasspetal/gifts).



Tyrell sat across the dark room, clammy palms clasped together as he stared on. Elliot’s eyes closed and the noise of soft whirring machines filled the room. He swallowed and closed his eyes, knees bouncing in his lap.

Angela sat up from her perch, her heels clicked across the linoleum floor and stopped in front of Tyrell’s hunched form. She sighed before hesitantly placing her hand atop his pinstriped shoulder.

“I’m gonna go,” she said. He looked up, tears welling in his eyes. She blinked and swallowed before nodding her head. “You should get some rest. He’ll be fine.”

Tyrell took in a deep breath to stop the sudden onslaught of tears from the mere thought of Elliot being alone right now. He shook his head and stood up instead.

“No,” he stated. “I’ll stay. He may need something.” _He may need **me**_ , he thought.

Elliot lay limply on the hospital-grade bed. His eyes closed as the mantra he told himself to sleep filled his thoughts.

_Mind awake, body asleep. Mind awake, body asleep. Mind awake. body...asleep..._

Metal stool legs shift beside the bed. He opened his eyes to find the former CTO of Evil Corp looking down with a pleading, guilty look. Tear marks lined his face. He sat with his hands clasped between his knees, body strained as if stopping himself from peering over and wrapping his arms around him. Tyrell sobbed out then quickly closed his mouth, stifling his cries.

“I’m so sorry,” he began. “I was just doing what you told me to do! What you told me to do...”

Mr. Robot sighed and lowered his gaze to Tyrell’s shaking hands.

“God, I— I almost fucking _killed_ you!”

Tyrell began crying in earnest then, hands covering his broken face. Mr. Robot ground his teeth together, the pain in his and Elliot’s side starting to come back to the surface of their shared body. They shook their head in quick succession — _Mind awake, body asleep. Mind awake, body asleep_ — and Mr. Robot came back to the forefront.

“Yeah, but—” Mr. Robot held back a groan, which Tyrell’s sharp attentive hearing immediately picked up on with the immediate lifting of his head. “You didn’t, did you?”

Tyrell gulped and frowned before turning down his eyes in shame. He slowly, hesitantly shook his head.

“Hit the morphine will you?”

Tyrell scrambled for the morphine pen and added more to the drip in his IV. He dropped his hands back down onto the top of the blankets covering Elliot’s slight frame.

“We’re alive,” Mr. Robot said.

He took a weak intake of breath. He watched as Tyrell brought his twitching hands to finger the blanket covering his body from the chest down. Tyrell slowly moved his hands to cover his own. Mr. Robot’s eyebrows cinched at the contact. He curved his hands into small fists and looked up to Tyrell. There was such open vulnerable emotion written all over his face. Mr. Robot hesitantly raised an open palm to the side of Tyrell’s face.

Tyrell’s eyes closed at the contact then, relishing in the cool touch of his injured god. He shuddered out a hollow sob and opened his eyes once more. Mr. Robot hid his grimace behind a small smile. He patted the side of Tyrell’s face twice before breaking contact and pushing his hands beneath the covers for warmth. Tyrell leaned down in desperation.

“Elliot I—”

“It’s late. We’re tired.”

Mr. Robot averted his eyes and pulled away. He instead took in the fresh pinstripe suit that hung perfectly on Tyrell’s lean frame. He hummed and nodded before closing his eyes and speaking again, trusting Tyrell to listen.

“I need some new button downs.”

Tyrell took in a sharp inhale and nodded.

“O-okay, I can... Do you want me to get you some?”

Mr. Robot raised and lowered his eyebrows in place of nodding.

A desperate smile cracked across Tyrell’s face. He sniffled and nodded.

“Alright, I can get you some tomorrow morning. You’d look perfect in some Burberry Stretch. Well, you’d look perfect in _anything_ but I remember you mentioning you didn’t like scratchy fab—”

“Just. Get shirts,” Mr. Robot interrupted with a small sigh. He opened his eyes to sleepy slits. The morphine was coming back in full force. “I trust you to get something amenable.”

Tyrell smiled and rocked forward and back on the stool, hands once again clasped between his knees to keep him from reaching out. Elliot didn’t want to be touched right now, that was alright. Whatever he wanted, he would agree to it.

“Get some rest, Tyrell. On a bed. _Not here_.”

Tyrell swallowed down his protests and stood from his seat beside Elliot. Irving was nearby. And The Dark Army left a doctor of sorts on duty to keep a watchful eye on Elliot in case he crashed.

Tyrell wiped at the new tears collecting on the corners of his eyes as he walked to the elevator. He stepped in beside the Dark Army guard covered in a white hazmat suit, lazily chomping on a Red Wheelbarrow BBQ rib sandwich. He kept his eyes focused on Elliot’s slowly rising and falling chest. The beeping of his heart monitor steady and sound.

Mr. Robot turned his head away from Tyrell then, and closed his eyes once more. He smiled to himself and thought... _Good boy_...before the morphine haze took him down to rest with Elliot.

Tyrell watched Elliot turn his head away, effectively dismissing him. He lowered his head in response and gulped down his guilt. His ears perked up at the soft words he heard across the dark room.

“Good boy,” Elliot mumbled.

A sob broke out of his chest at the praise. He covered his mouth as he cried, the doors of the elevator closing shut like the mouth of a dragon, cutting off all sight of Elliot.

_Good boy. He said I’m a good boy. I’m a good boy. I’m **his** good boy. _

The doorman slumped away from the wall as the elevator reached the main floor of their new Mount Olympus. Tyrell took in a deep grounding inhale then fixed the lapels of his pinstripe suit, adjusted his tie, and walked on to the cab that would take him back to the Fukan Hotel. He made a call on the secure cellular Irving provided him, then.

“Irving,” he said with a flat tone. “I need you to get something delivered to Elliot’s housing quarters when he wakes up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments calm my anxious mind. lol I may have to write more of these two together because the missing scene possibilities are fucking endless and full of innuendo...
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr @tywellalderson!


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